


The Taste of Freedom

by Dakoyone



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-13 02:20:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1209184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dakoyone/pseuds/Dakoyone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is more than just the feeling of being unburdened from the shackles that once held you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Taste of Freedom

His first taste of freedom was of the springtime strawberries that grew along the outskirts of the Arlathan Forest, the dimpled flesh breaking easily under the pressure of his teeth, giving way to the tender - tangy and sweet - juices within. He couldn't recall ever having tasted anything so divine in his life. There was no memory of having ever shared such bliss with a loved one from his past.

But that was in the past. Everything was in the past - every second of pain, every horrible nightmare, every scar that yet lingered upon his skin. Everything was gone now. For the first time in his life, Fenris had no direction. But that was all right, he thought...with the tart berry wine on his tongue and the pleasant berry perfume on his breath. Everything would be all right.

He smiled.

His eyes turned up to gaze upon the light filtering through the eaves of the green canopy above the tree against which he sat. It was midday, though the heat was not stifling. A gentle breeze brushed against his cheeks and at the hair upon his brow, and he turned his face into its soothing caress. He listened to the song it sang as it rustled through the leaves. He thought he could hear the words, capture the tune. It was a lullaby - no, a love song, a peaceful melody.

He hummed.

It was such a foreign sound to him, having never heard it before. A hum. It was joy...no, not joy. He couldn't recall a memory that was joyful, had no experience to base this emotion on. Contentment? Perhaps, yes. Yes, he was content.

With a sigh, he let his head drop forward, stretching the back of his neck. He startled as he saw the state of his gauntlets. The blood had been washed off days ago, but now the gleaming metal shone bright red once again. Only this time it was of the broken flesh of fruit, the aroma he had thought soothing not a moment ago now thick and cloying, a sickly sweet odor that twisted unpleasantly in his gut, bringing only the memory of death - no, _slaughter_.

On unsteady legs, he stood, taking time to wipe his hands on a spare linen from his pack. With the familiar weight of his sword on the familiar bow of his back, he stepped forward.

It was time he moved on if he wished to put further distance between his retainers and himself.

  
* * *

Danarius was dead. His sister was alive. His memory was still just as hazy as ever.

He prowled in front of the fireplace, his posture resembling that of the wolf he was named for, the name chosen by his master...his _dead_ master. It wasn't enough. It was too much. Habit brought his hands up to fist in his hair, but he flinched as he caught sight of his gauntlets, the red staining them, dripping off the gleaming metal. It was mocking him. With a loud curse, he hurriedly unlatched the pieces and flung them as far away from his person as he could. Pivoting on the ball of his foot, he turned and glared into the fire with his teeth bared, his breath coming out in an angry hiss.

This _freedom_ tasted of ashes, of bitter memory, of hate.

He caught her scent before she announced her presence with the rustling of cloth and the soft tread of her boots upon the marble tile. Her sweet perfume brushed gently against all of his senses, soothing the restless, angry beast stirring beneath his skin. He felt the press of her fingers against his side, and he reached up to grasp them, lacing them through his before turning to face her. He watched as her eyes darted across his face before she bit her lip and offered him a tentative smile.

He smiled back.

It was difficult not to. Her eyes shone brightly in the flickering firelight, baring her soul to him as an offering for him to seek solace from the lingering nightmares of his memories. He leaned forward, brushing his fingers against her jaw, and kissed her. She hummed.

He hummed back.

She tasted of springtime strawberries.

.

End.


End file.
